


Bloody Pleasures

by Astray



Series: Blood for Blood AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: Ace Jango Fett, Aftercare, Anal Fingering, Biting, Jango is curious, M/M, Oral Sex, Vampire AU, Walon is obliging, Walon wants him, and gets a taste, feeding and sex are kinda linked here, there is absolutely nothing romantic about their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Astray/pseuds/Astray
Summary: Walon is now feeding properly, but he keeps his distance with Jango. To the point that Jango himself notices and gets more and more aggravated by it. Because he knows that Walon wants him, it's not even a secret. Being supremely uninterested in 'interpersonal interaction' does not necessarily means not being curious. Now, he just has to find a way to talk to Walon about it.[Title comes from the Blutengel song.]





	Bloody Pleasures

The next time he let Walon feed from him, Jango felt much as he did the first time. But it was a bit more overwhelming. It did not prevent him from being detached enough that he started noticing things. As he did a few other times. Like how Walon did touch him - and it was soothing, and very nice, and Jango might be absolutely uninterested in interpersonal relationships but he recognised that low thrum of anticipation and arousal that coursed through him, even if it did not show. He was also very aware of how Walon would stay mostly away from him, and keep his distance, clearly not wanting to crowd him. Which made sense. Jango had always made it clear that closeness was not something he sought. Mostly because it felt claustrophobic. 

After a few times, it got to the point that he was done with it. It was not just curiosity on his part. Walon acted like he was on autopilot and it gave him the creeps. Especially since he suspected it was just a front. After all, Walon was a good liar - being a good liar kept you alive. So when he went to Walon’s quarters that day, he went with the intent to talk some sense into that dense idiot. He already got him to feed regularly, and Jango had taken to make up for the blood loss with supplements. It helped him not getting sick - never mind that Kaminoans made sure everything was way too clean - humans still carried germs, and blood loss, even if it was consensual, never really helped your immune system. 

“If you’re going to argue, don’t yell.”

Okay, maybe he looked like a stormcloud or something. “I won’t.” He went to his spot on Walon’s bed, took off his shirt and crossed his legs, waiting patiently. He had eaten and drunk quite enough beforehand - it was supposed to help with the dizziness but it did not do much. Walon hesitated before joining him, as he was wont to do. There was always a moment when he seemed unsure of the proceedings, before getting on with the program. 

“You don’t have to be on autopilot around me.” He could have phrased it differently. He could have told Walon to snap out of it. Or ask why he was acting like that. 

Walon sighed, and pushed his hair back. “It’s for the best.”

“It’s a shot in the dark, so you tell me but, honestly, I’m a virgin, not a prude, there’s a difference. If you think I’ll bolt just because you get off feeding from me, you got another thing coming.” Or maybe it was because himself felt that tightening in his lower belly every time he felt Walon’s fang digging in - or even more, when he pulled out.  _ Good job, brain, you avoided all the double entendre until now. Brilliant. _

Apparently, his mind was not the only thing that froze - Walon looked like someone had doused him in carbonite. It took seconds. Seconds that felt like hours. A water clock where treacle replaced water. Slow. Surreal. And the reasons etched on Walon’s face and Jango was not sure if it was Walon speaking, or his own mind providing the reasons. 

“-I feel like a creep enough as it is, to be honest.”

Jango acted on impulse, and reached for him - put his hand on Walon’s arm. Careful. “You’re not.” He sighed, and stared at him in the eye. Jango was suddenly hyperaware of his surroundings, his own breathing, Walon’s - it was the sharp edge when he was on the cusp of striking. At the same time, it somehow felt like a normal process - like the past weeks, months, had lead up to that moment and while he knew that Walon would not hold it against him for backing down, he did not want to. He had meant what he said. And while he held no real interest in sex, giving it a shot was not so out of question as it had been twenty years ago. “You have my permission to. At least today.”

Not letting Walon argue, Jango moved back until he was sitting in the middle of the bed. Waiting. Walon would have to reach out for him. He was not going anywhere. It was a challenge of sorts, but he had no apprehension. He simply waited, cross-legged, hands on his knees. He was not completely relaxed but he had gotten used to it - guess that was the way when you ended up in a room with someone who could probably kill you. Or they could kill each other. 

He certainly did not expect Walon to prowl towards him. Until now, he had always been more hesitant about it - and in a way, he was clearly holding back. It sent a thrill down his spine. Walon got rid of his shirt, and stopped only when he was kneeling in front of Jango. There, the hesitation returned. But the hunger was clear - in the way he was leaning forward, in the way he was baring his fangs, probably reflexively, in the way he was staring at Jango. Jango’s heart missed a beat - because he had always avoided that hunger in others. Except it was alright. Right now, it was alright. 

“Jang…”

“Limited time offer. Take your chance.”

Walon’s hand on his neck was gentle, his touch cool, his own skin having grown sensitive where he had been bitten. When Walon bent his head, Jango tilted his to the side, offering wordlessly. Kisses light on the healed wounds. Scrape of fangs that had him breathing in sharply. He tensed, expecting the bite, but none came. Walon’s hands on his sides and back as he got much closer than before - that purring sound barely audible. 

“I don’t want your neck today, ‘alor’ad.” Hands to his neck, then travelling down his chest - cool but trailing heat. “If you’d let me.”

“Tell me.” His voice softer, ragged - he gulped air when nails dug into his skin, searing lines down his side, shooting down to his cock, heat pooling there and tugging at his nerves. 

“I want your thigh. I want you naked on that bed as I feed from you. Worship you with my hands and mouth.” 

And damn, he could practically see it in his mind’s eye - Walon’s right hand cupping him through his pants and he pushed back against him, already too sensitive with just the prospect of feeling his fangs sinking into him - sucking his blood, and it was almost too much.

“Do it.” It came out like an order, even if he was breathless, he did not care. 

Walon pushed him back on the bed, and stopped, braced on his arms. Jango did not think, he put his left hand behind his neck and pulled him down to kiss him - it was not new, it had happened before. It did not do much for him, but Walon’s startled whine was worth it. No, kissing was not high on his list - but the way Walon pressed against him before kissing his jaw, his neck - this, Jango liked - made up for it. So much better. A sharp nip on his collarbone - he felt blood welling up, the tell-tale sting and heat of the bite, soothed when Walon licked his skin. It made him shiver. What had been fairly sensual until then took a sexual edge. Not fast enough. 

“Walon. Feed.” Jango reached for his pants, unfastening the things and shoving them past his hips - a move that had him arch against Walon. The hiss was loud. Predatory. He could not be bothered. The fabric chafed when it was yanked away, the air cool - like hands roaming his exposed skin. And then it all stopped. Looking down, he saw Walon staring at him - to be more specific, he was staring at his  _ kad  _ like it was the first time he saw one and in any other circumstances it would have been absolutely hilarious. Right then? It was time wasted. 

Jango growled, and quickly raised his left leg to shove his heel behind Walon’s back - good thing the man had been bent forward. He pushed him down, and when Walon stared back at him, Jango did not look away. Not when Walon snarled - and damn, it probably should not be attractive but the animalistic stance did things to him. Not when Walon bent his head, the snarl fading, the muffled word barely audible.  _ Beautiful _ . Kisses on his hip. Following the dips and curves of bones and muscles and tendons. Jango focused on Walon’s mouth, relaxing under him. His body running hotter, when it normally started only with the feeding. 

He distantly felt his legs being pushed apart, Walon settling between them. His skin blessedly cool. Kisses to his inner thigh - and then the bite. And when Walon had been rather fast and efficient before, he was dragging it out. Jango was aware of his fangs sinking into his skin, the sensation overwhelming and erotic beyond what he had experienced so far. The sheets crisp under his hands - he gripped them at the first pull, a soundless groan escaping him. It was just like before, yet so different. The sensations were mingling until it felt like Walon was not just feeding from him. His mouth hot on him, and the blooming heat of blood drawn merging with arousal. 

Jango shut his eyes, lost to the sensations - he did not want to look, not yet. The sheets under his back moving with him - he tried to stay still, and while before he had felt pliant and boneless, he was oddly energized. His moves were hindered, as though he was underwater, but it was pleasant, the warmth from the heating unit feeling almost cool. Hands on his knees, pushing his thighs apart - he could not resist it, did not even try - blaster and blade calluses rough on his skin. Fingers digging into his flesh and that got him arching against Walon, wanting more. 

Each pull at his veins tightened the wires on his heart, and he could not get enough air. He was panting, though he did try to breathe deeper - and only managed a shuddering breath that ended in a moan as he felt Walon’s fangs retreating. He was too aware of that sensation, the holes left behind feeling like they were taking half his thigh, and damnit but he was harder than he expected from that alone. He could have yelled at Walon to get a move on - he did not care what he would do, but it was not enough, and still overwhelming. 

“Jang.” Walon’s voice was raw, deeper than it should have been, and it sent Jango a bit deeper into his world of floating perceptions, even as he looked back at him. The sight of his between his legs, his eyes burning brighter, and hunger bared on his face - Jango would let him choose. He would relinquish control, if only because he trusted Walon to make him feel good. And because his limbs felt heavy, even as his skin tingled - the draft in the room, the sheets, Walon’s skin - his lips on the wounds he had inflicted. 

_ I want to taste you _ . Hearing Walon’s voice in his head was definitely weird - and oddly hot. He rationalised it as caused by the feeding. Not that he cared much. 

“Go ahead-” 

_ I tell you I want to blow you and you make puns. You’re terrible, ‘alor’ad _ .

“You cheat-” He choked when Walon mouthed at his inner thigh, kissing his oversensitive skin- licking his way up his cock- Jango bowed from the bed, the first contact electrifying, and it only seemed to encourage Walon. Hands moving up his legs, until the left one rested on the bite. Again, he was too aware of the wounds, heat piercing his flesh, but that receded when Walon began sucking him. He never thought he would end up in that situation, but he would be damned if it did not feel perfect. There was no pattern to wrap his mind around, to anticipate - nothing but Walon’s hot mouth on him, licking, sucking, showing just a hint of fangs that made him cry out. He was completely loose in interwoven currents of sensations, floating and grounded, and it felt so good, and the wires to his heart were still there but there was something - hunger that bloomed in the pit of his stomach and made him crave. 

It was not Walon himself, it was not attraction, it was not want. It was hunger that required to be sated, it was a physical need deep in his marrow. And someone else was fanning the flames, and he had not thought it would affect him like it was. He could not breathe, his consciousness was trapped somewhere and it was like looking at his body through a smaller lense only capable of focusing on certain parts. Fingers stroking his skin, his hips and sides - hint of nails but not enough. 

Jango reached out for Walon’s right hand, directed it to his collarbone - and looked down - and he should not have looked. If he had been focused on the lack of scratching, to the point that it dimmed the rest, now it was like being hit by a freighter: the way Walon looked at him, still hungry, swallowing around him - and the sight multiplied the sensation and it sent him crashing through a wall, sucked the air out of his lungs. He closed his eyes, a broken moan ripped out of his chest. Walon tentatively scratching his skin, so gentle but he would be rougher. 

“More.” He was desperate, half-way to begging but not yet. And the way Walon was focused on him made sensations erupt through his vision and awareness - Walon clawing at his skin, down his chest and across his stomach, to his hips and thighs - he was being torn apart, set on fire, and he never wanted it more than he did now. He could shed his skin and dig that hunger and he craved still - shouting when Walon stopped, cursing him - and the biting, to his other thigh, closer to his pelvis and it tugged at his heart he could not think it was dying and being too alive for his own mind. It stopped.

He was in darkness and it was solid and warm and soothing. 

“Jango.” Walon had moved up to his side, looking at him with concern. He did not faint, did he? Walon shook his head. “It was probably a bit much from the get go.”

“Don’t you dare stop.”

Walon smiled and that probably counted as predatory. “I won’t. Just making sure you were alright.” 

On impulse, he reached for Walon to kiss him - still not a fan, and it was weird to taste blood - his blood - on him but the way Walon held him, it was soothing. And from the feeling of it, his body was still very eager to get on with the program. Then Walon set out to kiss his way down his neck, nipping at his skin, just enough for the sharp sting to be felt, for warmth to bloom right after. 

“Would you come for me,  _ ‘alor _ ?”

Jango was very good and picked the bits of his brain in record time to say ‘yes’. Like hell he would not - he had self-control but he was not going to use it now. “Anything, Walon. You got ideas, heh?” 

Walon rose to his level, whispering in his ear. “Maybe. Ever tried the joys of prostate stimulation.” And damn, the words were clinical that completely offset Walon’s tone. 

“Like I have time for that.”

“Interested?” 

Jango nodded, mind racing in anticipation, before he forced himself to stop. He trusted Walon to make it good, else he would never have asked. It was enough for Walon, who left his side to retrieve a non-descript tube. He bent his right leg at the knee to give himself more leverage - exposed, even more than before. But he did not felt so vulnerable. There was a certain power that came with it, with the fact that Walon wanted to pleasure him. It was a first. He shook himself. There were thoughts he was definitely not keen on having right now, especially when it was clear that Walon could get into his head.

“You with me,  _ ‘alor’ad _ ?”

Jango nodded, and raised his hand towards Walon in invitation. Walon took his hand, and it as probably to reassure himself. His palm was warm, not as cool as it normally was.  _ My blood running through you _ . And it felt more intimate than anything else. Sex did not get as intimate as this. And yet, he was detached. He could tell that Walon was detached - even if there was an obvious care in the way he conducted himself. Walon put his hands on his ankles and stroked his legs in wide, circular motions, reaching his knees, and each sweep of his fingers awoke his nerve, and warmed him. Jango slowly sank back into that pleasant haze. Focusing on how Walon’s touch created static that left his skin tingling. It slowly worked him up back to where he was before he fell apart, and he had that sense of being aware of what he was doing only by the sensations that surrounded him. The sheets on his shoulders when he arched from the bed, Walon’s fingers pressing into his sides, sliding across his back - his mouth on his chest - sharp nip and the blood welling and it was just teasing and not enough. 

“Walon.” Just his name and he could have said anything but had no idea how to voice what he really wanted. For him to make good on his offer, to bite deeper, to get his mouth back on his cock and completely wreck him. That was way more arousing than he expected it to be, to be fair. But he was not going to complain. Not when Walon scraped his teeth on his hip, blood welling from the thin lines he had drawn. Not when he coaxed his legs apart. Definitely not when the sound of the tube being uncapped shot to his ears - like air was still and silence was absolute, drowning their breathing, the sound of their bodies on the sheets and against each other. 

Cold and slick fingers, warming up noticeably. He let Walon guide him to a more comfortable position. Touch careful - and even when Jango wanted to tell him that he was not made of glass, he was grateful for it. Because he could not hide that hint of unease, the second-long motionlessness that overtook him, before his brain caught on. He was safe. He was with someone he trusted. Walon’s touch more insistent, surer, and Jango was hungry again, with that hollow feeling in his chest that expanded, that demanded to be filled, like satiation could only come from Walon’s fingers, from his mouth on his inner thigh. And so it was.

Jango would not be able to tell if the growl he heard was his or Walon’s or both. Maybe both. It felt foreign, sure, and not quite comfortable - the bite came as a relief, taking his mind slowly from one sensation to the other. The parallel between the fangs slowly penetrating his skin, his flesh, and Walon’s finger - fingers now - doing the exact same thing. He could not hear or see as much as feel, touch encompassing all the rest. The pull on his vein - gentle, not meant for feeding - the sucking tracing yet another parallel that was not as conscious as it sprang to what was left of his mind as he fell deeper into that maelström - colours having a taste, he could almost - the only way he could describe was that he smelled and tasted what Walon was and it was strange, and overwhelming. He took it all in. He welcomed it.

It was agony, but sweet agony, the kind that made him feel like drowning and starving at the same time. The pull stronger, his heart beating wildly, feeding it. The sensation expanded, and he was nothing but abused skin and broken vein and running blood and abdominal muscles clenching and fingers sparking want and pleasure deep in his bones. He could only feel - taste the red, warm and bright, the dark - cool and soothing aftertaste - safe. 

Fangs slowly pulling out, and fingers withdrawing - his hands shooting down to grip Walon’s hair to hold him there - and the broken sigh that had to be his. The raspy sound of Walon’s breathing. His voice in his head - telling him how good he was. Walon’s arm under his leg - and he would have baulked at being so vulnerable - but Walon’s free hand was slowly stroking his cock, spreading precome around, his thumb just under the head as his other fingers teased him. He looked down, saw it was coming, knew it was happening, but unprepared still for how Walon bit into his up-to-now unmarred thigh, slow and so  _ karking good _ , just the same pace with which he pushed his fingers back into him. And his other hand stroking him. He was shaking, his thighs trembling, back arching. He was the bite and that spot right under the head of his cock and that pressure right  _ there _ . And nothing else, as Walon pulled hard on his vein while his hands stroked and pressed into him and around him - he arched off the bed with a silent shout, rendered silent with lack of air as pleasure made him bow and strain and tense. 

The way Walon retracted his fangs made him shiver harder still, his hands working in sync - until he could not anymore. Pleasure slowly bleeding - ha - into discomfort, and then it was like being gently laid down. It was not comfortable and he felt oddly bereft, even as Walon carefully sealed the puncture wounds - and it was going to be sensitive for a while and each step he would take would remind him. Not that he minded. Walon’s hands up his sides. 

_ Would you let me care for you? _

And maybe he could. He felt pleasantly worn. So he accepted. And it was odd, in a way, to have Walon help him to the bathroom - he was whoozy and shaky. But he appreciated it, and appreciated even more how Walon was back into himself - checking in with Jango regularly for discomfort and pain. And if his hands were careful and gentle, Jango was at ease. Even when Walon asked him to sit down while he got the bed sorted, and came back a while later. 

“Will you stay and sleep, Jango?”

“We’re not marrying, Walon.”

“Let me rephrase, do you trust your body to carry you back to your own bed? I promise, if I wanted to marry you, I’d be a lot sneakier, and wearing  _ beskar.”  _

And it was easy to fall in the banter, and familiarity of it. It was normal. He shook his head. “Do I get caff after?*

“Heck, I’ll bring you caff in bed, if that’s what it takes for you not to go flat on your face in a corridor.”

Jango smiled, and it was a tired smile, but it matched Walon’s. And so he got up and slowly made his way to him. His legs weak and each step pumping blood to the bites, making them feel like burning spots under his skin. 

Once they were settled for the night, Walon spoke up, softly. “How do you feel, for real?” They were lying on their backs, not touching, or snuggling. Neither was very tactile, and now that they were both tired and sated, there was no need for contact. 

“Good.” Jango turned his head to look at Walon. “It was good. It really was.” He was not going to regret it, that was for sure. “Thank you.”

Walon huffed. “I should thank you. You fed me, and allowed me a fantasy I never thought would become real, after almost twenty years.”

“Sappy, Walon, sappy.”

“Heh, I’m high.”

“Tall. Sleep?”

He could feel more than saw Walon settle to sleep, even as he mumbled a good night to him. Jango fell into the clutches of sleep not long after. They had a long day tomorrow. 


End file.
